


interlude

by green_piggy



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: During Canon, Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Talking, nothing that's what, what's better than complaining fondly about your strange new family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27506266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: While taking a moment to rest in the Stilshrine of Miriam, Fran and Balthier have a discussion about the other members of their ragtag group.
Relationships: Balthier & Fran (Ivalice Alliance)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	interlude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drake_wayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drake_wayne/gifts).



> can you believe that ffxii is my favourite final fantasy and, in general, one of my fave games ever, and yet this is the first fic i've ever written for it? me neither!
> 
> written for my wonderful friend [anna on twitter!](https://twitter.com/axevalor)
> 
> hope y'all enjoy~

The Stilshrine of Miriam was a ruin steeped in both history and destruction. The various guardians of this place, from the countless stomping Dragon Aevises to the thirsty Blood Gigases, would have been exhausting for even the most experienced of adventurers.

As soon as they had defeated the beast masquerading as a Save Crystal, it’d been Balthier, of all people, who insisted that they stop and rest up before continuing. Vaan and Penelo had both been pale and haggard looking, panting, looking ready to kneel over, yet refusing to rest. Even the princess had looked exhausted, her usual stern frown missing, although Fran knew that the woman was more stubborn than a Battery Mimic prowling for energy in darkness. None of them wished to show what they perceived to be weakness in front of others.

For now, though, the three of them were all asleep behind the Save Crystal. Penelo and Vaan were curled up in each other’s arms in a manner that reminded Fran vividly of her own sisters (if her heart panged and ached for an awful second… it was just that — a second). Ashe had her back to them a small distance away from them, soft snores leaving her. Basch had gone to do a perimeter check, and as for Balthier…

Her partner was perched on a ledge near the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, legs dangling and not quite reaching the stone ground. Although his gaze was away from them, Fran knew that he was not paying attention to the world ahead, but lost in thought. Even just a few months ago, she would have been able to pinpoint his thoughts without hesitation, but…

It seemed that the more the nethicite and its corrupting touch penetrated their group, the further Balthier pulled away from her. Perhaps to the gaze of an outsider, nothing had changed, but Fran knew him better than a bird knew the sky.

Balthier leaned his head slightly towards her as she approached, her heels sharply clicking against the ground. He did not move, though, not even when she stood close enough to him that they could have brushed hands.

For several seconds, there was silence. Then Balthier turned his head fully to her, hazel eyes twinkling.

“You’ve gone soft,” he said.

“Oh?” Fran arched her head, allowing herself a knowing smile. “And you have not?”

_ “Blah.”  _ Balthier fiddled with the countless bracelets underneath his left sleeve. He swung his head away sharply, pretending that the slight blush dotting his cheeks was invisible to Fran’s sharp eye. She allowed him this much. “The boy is like the nasty pieces of fungi that always linger in Strahl’s darkest corners. Flourishes and grows even if you do not wish for it to do so.”

Her smile softened. “I did not specify Vaan, did I? And you are hardly scrubbing him away.”

“With children like him, it’s better to indulge. You’ve seen how he prattles on and on and  _ on.” _

_ He learnt from the best,  _ she was tempted to say, but instead: “He reminds me of yourself when we first met.”

“Fran,  _ please,”  _ came Balthier’s long-suffering voice. He smoothed down his shirt cuff and turned his head to her with a boyish smirk, as if somehow  _ he  _ was the one who had the advantage. “I’ve seen how you tend to the girl. Showing her the ways of the bow and axe. Looking out for her when no one’s gaze is on her.”

She  _ had,  _ hadn’t she? The amount of times she pulled Penelo aside to explain a concept, or to correct her grip on her weapon (she was evidently a dancer, with how she glided and swept through monsters, but it was also obvious that she had scant experience on the battlefield), or to ensure that her quiet voice wouldn’t go forgotten. Fran knew, very well, what it felt like to be regarded as weak just because her voice didn’t bellow over other humes. But she was still a viera, revelled and feared by many across Ivalice. Penelo was a smaller than average hume with a perfectly ordinary appearance.

It was only sensible to look out for her.

Balthier’s smirk widened when she lifted her head and gave a little  _ hmph  _ through her nose down at him.

“Says the one who gave her his tissue on their first meeting.”

He opened his mouth to say  _ “blah”,  _ seemed to remember that he had already said it, and turned his head away. His quiet huff was audible only to her, otherwise impossible to hear over the gentle swish of Mist flowing around the Save Crystal behind them. She strained her ears for any other sound, but none came. The sounds of the children resting faded into white noise. She would pay attention only if there was any change.

The back of Balthier’s feet scruffed against the wall as he spread his legs with a sigh. When he rested his arms on his thighs and allowed them to dangle, hunching forward just a bit, he looked rather young in that moment. Like the haughty-acting boy who had turned out to be as timid as a mouse when Fran had first met him.

“You are concerned for the princess,” she eventually said. Someone had to address the difficult subject, and she knew that he would not. “About the nethicite’s influence.”

_ That  _ got Balthier to snap his head towards her. “And you are not?” he shot back. The fact that he had not denied it was what worried Fran the most.

“Of course.” She crossed her arms. “But…”

“The princess is strong,” Balthier said, “if a bit reckless and emotional. I understand her want for power, but…”

“There are few siren calls more alluring than that of the stone,” Fran finished.

Face shadowing, Balthier dug his fingernails into the wall.

“If only I truly was the leading man of this particular tale,” he murmured. “It would be a foregone conclusion. A cliché ending, perhaps, but one I would gladly accept if it meant that not even dust remained of any shard of that damned nethicite.” He rested his hand under his chin, voice lowering. “The Sword of Kings, hmm…”

Fran cocked her head towards him. “You doubt its power?”

“Only the hand that grasps it.”

Fran said nothing, for he spoke the truth. She crossed her arms and let her nails rest on the tips of her elbows. For a long moment, only silence reigned.

Then Balthier let out an amused huff. “At least we needn’t fret about the captain,” he muttered. “Riveting story about an evil twin brother aside. Even I would struggle to come up with a tale as grandiose as his.”

“Indeed.” Fran tilted her head with a wry smile. “You seemed to have taken an immediate fondness to him.” Not in a romantic sense, but Balthier had been quick to defend Basch’s against Vaan’s accusations in that typical manner of his. Of pretending not to care, when his every action was done out of the love bleeding out of his chest.

“As have you.”

“He has a good heart,” she said. “And a true soldier. One who fights for his people.”

But Balthier just gave a waning smile. “Not  _ his  _ people,” he gently corrected. “Any people. He would shield even an Archadian with his body if it meant them receiving one less scratch.” He tugged at a bracelet again and began idly rolling one of his rings around his finger. Fran couldn’t help her smile at seeing the familiar nervous habit. Around anyone else, Balthier never would have allowed himself to do something as unsightly as  _ fidget.  _ What kind of leading man showed nerves or hesitation, after all?

The fact that he was still so comfortable behaving like this around her… perhaps Balthier was not so distant from her as she had initially feared.

“They are not bad people,” Fran eventually whispered. She placed her hand on her partner’s shoulder, fingers wrinkling the baggy material underneath.

Balthier’s hand rested over hers, his palm warm and his countless colourful rings cold against her skin. “No,” he agreed quietly, “they are not.”

**Author's Note:**

> [ [twitter](https://twitter.com/greenpiggles) ]
> 
> enjoyed the fic? kudos and/or comments are always greatly appreciated! thanks so much, and have a fantastic day~


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